


Our House

by WriterGirl128



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Epic Bromance, Family, Fluff, M/M, Movie Night, Other, Post-Season 4, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 02:17:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3792901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriterGirl128/pseuds/WriterGirl128
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To be honest, evolving into the McCall-Stilinski household was...probably one of the best things that could’ve happened, considering everything they’d been through.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our House

**Author's Note:**

> Little drabble-y ficlet I wrote based off of a post on tumblr (that I currently do not have the link to, though I will edit it in ASAP!) There's not really a plot line here, just family shenanigans because I have a lot of sciles bromance feelings. Enjoy!

There was something inherently comforting about living with the McCalls. Stiles couldn’t quite place it, but it was like their very presence made his house warmer, made the air lighter, made his home homier. It was a nice, pleasant feeling with them there. Things were comfortable and sincere, and there was this love, this trust, between them all that made their smiles genuine again. It was the kind of feeling you get when you hug a puppy and it leans into your body with its own, like it never wants to leave the home it’s made in your arms. It warmed something inside of Stiles—some deeper part of him that had never really recovered from the icy grips of the nogitsune.

Who knew so much good could come out of being in so much debt?

Sure, the Eichen House bills had been paid off—thank you, Brunski—and yeah, Scott had picked up some extra shifts at the animal clinic, but they had been in deep. Between the two of them, Scott and Melissa wouldn’t have been able to get by on their own. And seeing how the Stilinskis were kind of in the same boat, they decided to pool their resources. Thus, the McCall-Stilinski household was born.

“It should be the Stilinski-McCall household,” Scott had argued the day they’d moved in, after Stiles had greatly gestured them inside with a grin. “You know, seeing how it’s your house?”

Stiles had thought about it for a second, before scrunching his nose up in distaste. “Nah. Doesn’t have the same ring to it. Besides,” he’d added, squeezing Scott’s shoulder, goofy grin fading into a more sincere smile. “It’s not my house, dumbass. It’s our house.”

And that was that. Stiles had to admit, having his father and Melissa and Scott all together in the same place—his actual family and his not-actually-family family—was pretty awesome. He liked being able to come home to a full house. Not that he didn’t like it when it was just him and his dad—because he did. He loved his dad, and living with just him strengthened that cliché father-son bond in a way that didn’t seem so ridiculously cliché. But it got lonely, sometimes. Quiet. Now, though, it was almost the exact opposite of lonely. Scott had moved into Stiles’ room with him, while Melissa got the guest bedroom for herself.

Having Melissa in the house was weird in a nice way. She’d always been a kind of second mother to Stiles, and while a tinge of guilt lingered in Stiles’ mind, he’d always kind of been like her second son, too. It had always been like that, even before his own mother died. And while Melissa could never replace his mom—no one could ever replace his mom—she did help fill in a little that part of his life that had been gapped out for over eight years. The little, motherly things Stiles had missed—like asking how his day was when he got home from school and being just as genuinely interested in his as she was in Scott’s. Scolding him for playing his music too loudly. Gripping the handle in his Jeep the one and only time she’d ever asked him for a ride to work—“Forget werewolves, I’m surprised Scott’s survived this long with you driving like this, Stiles, slow down, for the love of...”

Having Scott as a roommate was pretty awesome, too. There was a part of Stiles that couldn’t help but worry about his best friend, though that wasn’t anything new. Maybe it was because half of him still saw Scott as a scrawny little dweeb with horrible asthma, who was always picked on because he couldn’t keep up with the other kids in manhunt. Maybe it was because even though Scott’s gotten fancy new werewolf lungs and a haircut and a tattoo and hot new Alpha eyes, he’s still the same stupidly altruistic kid who would literally jump into danger if it meant helping someone else. Knowing that no matter what happens, he’d be able to see Scott every night, to make sure he’s alive and he’s safe and he’s okay, made some of the churning in Stiles’ stomach ease.

To be honest, evolving into the McCall-Stilinski household was...probably one of the best things that could’ve happened, considering everything they’d been through. They’d lost so much in such a short time, and it kind of left everyone a little lost. So much had changed, and living together only solidified one of the only constants in their lives—they were family. Nothing could change that.

With that warm, comfortable feeling tingling in the air, they also got the perks of the whole “family” experience. Neither household had ever really been full, before—and when they had been, both boys had been so young…

So one night, when Melissa grounded them from doing homework, and seeing their girlfriends, or going out in lieu of a family movie night, the boys had happily obliged. “Oh, darn,” Stiles had sighed, mock disappointed. “I really wanted to do that econ homework…”

Twenty minutes later, they were sprawled out in the living room, trying to find a movie to watch. Melissa and the Sheriff were on the couch, Scott and Stiles on the floor in front of them, each pair sharing a bowl of popcorn—the boys’ significantly bigger than their parents’. Stiles had the remote, which was…probably not the best idea, in retrospect.

“Come on, guys,” he whined, gesturing to the TV. “They have Star Wars!”

The Sheriff raised an eyebrow at his son, shaking his head. “Stiles…”

“He’s never seen it, Dad!” he cried, gesturing to Scott now, as if that alone was enough to persuade him.

“I haven’t seen a lot of movies, dude,” Scott reminded him, throwing a piece of popcorn at Stiles’ head.

Stiles flailed at the impact, pointing a finger at Scott. “Hey,” he chided. “You promised me you’d watch it if we survived a certain Motel from Hell.”

For a second, an odd expression settled on Scott’s face, and Stiles kind of regretted the words—they never talked about what happened that night. Ever. It was like a taboo. Okay, maybe it wasn’t healthy to just push aside bad memories and not face them, but that night…

Almost as soon as it had appeared, the expression faded, amusement easily taking its place. “And I will. Someday. But we shouldn’t force our parents into watching it too if they don’t want to,” he pointed out. “That’s not cool.”

Stiles sent a pleading glance to his father, then to Melissa—both who looked like they were trying to hide their amusement. He turned back to Scott. “Fine. But no sappy love movies.” He mock shuddered. “Yuck.”

Scott raised an eyebrow at him, chuckling. “Says the one who read all of Shakespeare’s plays and memorized Sonnet 85 in the seventh grade to impress a certain red-haired wonder.”

Now Stiles flicked a piece of popcorn at Scott’s head—which kind of backfired when Scott just caught it in his mouth. Werewolves. “Yeah, and that got me real far,” he pointed out, though not bitterly. Sure, part of him would always be a little in love with Lydia Martin—but he’d actually kind of gotten used to the idea of being just friends with her.

It was comfortable, the relationship they’d settled into. Comfortable and solid—he figured they were closer now than they’d ever be if they were together. They loved each other as they were, and that was good enough for Stiles.

He drew his attention back to the screen, finding the genre options in the movie section. “We should watch a horror movie,” he said, highlighting the option. After looking through the movies, though, he sighed, going back to the genres page. “Or maybe not.”

His dad seemed somewhere between uncomfortable, angry, and concerned. “Do all horror movies these days have to do with possessions?” he asked, shaking his head.

“Basically,” Stiles sighed, but then brightened. “I know! We can watch a horror movie not from these days. Anyone up for…” He paused, for dramatic effect. “…The Wolf Man?!” Scott groaned, which earned him a glare from Stiles. “Hey,” Stiles chastised him, “watch your tone. It’s a classic. It’s the classic. You have to see it.”

“Stiles—”

“Scott,” Stiles cut him off. “You remember, all the way back to that first week, and I kept saving your ass like, over and over again because you were totally unprepared for werewolfdom?”

Scott threw his hands up. “How was I supposed to prepare—”

“Well if you had seen this movie…” Stiles raised an eyebrow. “Look, I’ll consider it a ‘thank-you-for-not-letting-me-eat-people’ gift, and never hold my insane protect-Scott-McCall-from-himself abilities over your head ever again.”

“Do I really have a choice in the matter?” Scott asked, resigned.

Stiles nodded matter-of-factly. “Of course, Scotty. This or Star Wars. Take your pick.”

“I hate you.” 

"Awoooo.”


End file.
